Porcelain
by Zara Allegra Vespertine
Summary: Natsuki Shinomiya is famous painter known for being a recluse. With four months left to produce a series of paintings he had committed to the gallery, he is screwed because he has nothing to show. He needed inspiration and pronto! Enter Haruka Nanami. Chapter 7 is up. on Temporary Hiatus
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: yep, it's me again. I know. You're probably tired of always seeing my name on the list. Oh well. This is a new series I will be working on after I finish Underage Love. For more details on this new series and my other unfinished series (Cecil's Muse) please visit my profile page for more information. I hope you enjoy the first chapter as it would be quite some time before I update this, as my main focus will be Underage Love (for the meantime). PS sorry for the grammar mistakes.**

**Enjoy. **

**Chapter 1-First Encounter**

Natsuki Shinomiya squeezed out a generous amount of ultramarine blue oil paint on his worn-out wooden palette. Afterwhich, he carelessly tossed the emptied out tube on the floor and grabbed another tube. This time, he dabbed a tiny bit of titanium white on a clean spot.

Using the filbert brush, he dipped the brush on the blue color until the bristles are loaded and then dabbed again on a clean surface of the palette. Next, he dipped the brush on the titanium white and mixed it on the blue spot he separated until he got the lighter shade of blue he wanted.

Chewing the bottom of his lip, he began to color the edges of the lip outline on his canvas, concentrating on the distinct lines like unique fingerprints. He worked his way deftly around the lips, coaxing the image he had on his mind. He dipped his brush again, this time on the cadmium red color he had squeezed out earlier.

For a few minutes, silence reigned on the room. Only slow drone of the fan above him and his breathing were the noises governing his mind as he contemplated on the shadows of the lip, dipping his brush on an ivory black color.

Finally, he was satisfied.

He took a step back and admired his work. Dropping the wooden palette on the small moveable table near him, he wiped his dirty hands on his grey shirt. He reeked of the smell of oil paints and dried sweat.

He had not taken a bath for the past two days in a row. His skin itched, but he figured he could still last for a couple of hours more before he hit the shower.

"That's a nice lip outline" a deep husky voice interrupted him in the background.

Startled, he whirled around and saw his friend, Ryuuya Hyuuga, looking pristine and handsome, wearing a light green-striped long sleeves and a black tie. His honey-colored hair was still wet from the shower, his coat was carelessly slung over his back with his left hand, while an unlighted cigarette hung on his lips.

Annoyed at his friend for silently creeping up behind him, he took out his knife and began scrapping away the lip he had so painstakingly drawing for the past two hours.

_Kreee… Kreee.._

"Hey! What are you doing?" Ryuuya said in a wailing manner. "The lip outline looks good. So lifelike! Arrgh!"

Without looking at his friend behind, he can picture him at the back of his mind, throwing up his hands in exasperation. He almost gave a chuckle were it not for the fact that he was suddenly angry.

"Ahh.. Such a waste.." he heard him stomp around and sat down on the worn out sofa, as the springs gave a protesting squeak. He heard the clicking of a lighter before smelling burnt tobacco in the air.

Natsuki continued to ignore him, intent on cleaning out his canvas as much as possible. As soon as he finished. He threw the knife on his mobile table and went to the opposite side of the large, airy room and laid on his back on the large bed with rumpled bedclothes. It was his daybed, where he slept most of the time. His own bedroom was several doors away, but he was either too tired or too lazy to go there when he needed to rest. Hence, the daybed that Ryuuya purchased for him on his behalf.

They both did not speak. Ryuuya continued to smoke his cigarette until he finishes his stick, took out another and lit it with his old one before crushing the stump on the overflowing ashtray near the sofa.

The scene is not unusual for them. Everytime Ryuuya visits him; he always sat on the sofa opposite his daybed. And either he would be sitting up or lying down, tuning out his yapping and nagging.

"Natsuki, there's only four months left till the deadline. Mitsue is getting nervous that you won't be able to deliver the paintings in time."

He did not answer. He continued to stare at the white ceiling above him, his mind blank. _Should he tell Ryuuya or not?_

He was running out of ideas on what to paint. The last series he did, almost eight months ago was the hardest he had ever produced so far. A total of 38 pieces of artwork, a couple of sculptures and a dozen haunting music that the gallery plays in a loop, all centered around death and resurrection. Visitors to the gallery walked through maze, experiencing melancholy and the process of dying, until they reach the last part where their senses are resurrected. Most of the gallery's patrons left the premises crying and sobbing. It was a truly unforgettable, visual and auditory experience. His power of making his subjects go through the business of dying and going in a state of limbo, until finally, waking up resurrected and alive. Critics praised the series as his most stunning series yet. A lot of collectors wanted to buy his works, but only a few managed to acquire them. The bidding for his works escalated to such a ridiculous amount. In the end, a high-end museum in Tokyo managed to acquire the majority of his works and they planned to install them in a new wing they built the year before.

Ryuuya was almost rolling with shock on the reception he received, but instead of celebrating, he was recuperating when the news broke on the purchase made. He almost died of starvation when he managed to finish them. He spent his first free day recovering in a nearby hospital, where he was confined for a good week. Ryuuya scolded him for being careless as he stood inside the private hospital room assigned for him, wagging his fingers at him in anger, while he just stared out of the window.

But he did not care. Why would he? When he went to Egypt to spend a good two months there to relax, he was blind struck with the imposing ancient buildings and temples at Abu Simbel and Karnak. The smell of hot sand, dust and camel dung, notwithstanding, it was one of the most amazing places he had ever been to. As he closed his eyes watching the dying sun lower on the deep blue horizon, his senses came alive with the sounds and colors he could see, hear and feel.

His hands literally twitched with inspiration and excitement!

On his last week in Cairo, he visited the museum during the closing hours, after having obtained special permission, where he the rest of the night staring into the magnificent sarcophagi of the thousands of years old preserved ancient kings of Egypt. Risking arrest, he even dared to touch the relics, absorbing the hieroglyphical information with his fingertips, much like the same way he ran his hands on the column bases of the temples he visited. Touching the relics was forbidden as the oils secreted by human hands contribute to the damage.

Natsuki has a queer talent for pulling out inspiration from the things he sees, feel and smell. A normal artist may be able to paint any subject from memory or having the subject place in front of him as he work the hours perfecting the image he sees on his mind. On his case, he needed to touch the object first, feel it with his hands and fingers, smell it and study it until he can summon up the "life force" of the object he was holding on to. It was an essential process for him, like needing oxygen to live. In order to breathe life into his works he needed to really feel them.

That night, he began to have grand visions of death and resurrection.

When he came back to his home, it was as if something magical or diabolical possessed him.

He spent the next three to four weeks, devouring books about death and resurrection. Spanning his thirst for knowledge across different cultures and era, he spent most of his days and nights reading, making notes and sketching.

Finally, he was ready.

He instructed Ryuuya to not disturb him. After buying all the materials he needed and loading carts of cup noodles and bottled tea, he cut himself from the rest of the world and started his journey in the underworld.

He burned pieces of wood bark, cut a few of his own hairs, took coppery wires and glued them in the series of canvases he set up around his massive studio.

He painted as if his own life depended on it.

He painted while he eats. He painted until his eyes screamed for sleep. Heck, he was even twisting coils of copper in the shower, as he scrubbed the oil from his itchy skin. He painted until he was delirious with hunger.

When he finished, two months had passed and he had lost a lot of weight.

Weak from hunger, he could barely whisper to Ryuuya to come over and get the canvases out from his room. After that, he collapsed from lack of sleep. And he slept on for two days straight.

"Well?"

Ryuuya was waiting for him to answer. Truth be told, he was also worried. He hated feeling like this. Feeling lifeless and uninspired. He needed something to jolt him awake, send electricity on his nerve cells and make him produce something, anything. But nothing.

In short, he is screwed.

"God, Natsuki. What am I gonna do with you?" his friend groaned.

He could hear the springs on the sofa squeak again, as he stood up and walk towards the small bar where he kept his juice and water stored inside the small fridge. Ryuuya opened the door, muttered about not having beer before he settled for a Coke, popping the can open as it made hissing sounds.

Natsuki decided to spill the beans. After all, what are friends for? Maybe he can suggest something to him, though Ryuuya is mostly involved in the technical side of their strange partnership: he do his paintings, Ryuuya will deliver them to the buyers. End of story. He doubt whether his friend can perform miracles and suggest an idea that will take root in his mind. To Ryuuga, its all about business, transactions, sex and vices. That's it.

Maybe he could use sex and vices then? He'd seen, smell and touched enough of his friend's vices littered around the house: cigarettes, beer, condoms and sleazy magazines. He even takes home a girl once or twice a month and they will use the guest bedroom in this house. And he has no choice but to endure the screams, moans and whimpers coming from the room as they both fucked themselves senseless.

_Nah.. Vices and Sex are too predictable._

He could hear Ryuuya munching on the dried noodles of the ramen cup he stocked on his pantry.

_Well, here goes nothing._

"I'm fucking dead here, Ryuuya."

"Huh?" the munching stopped.

"I said, I'm stewing my brains out for something, but I could not come up with anything." He answered slowly. Damn, he could be slow sometimes.

Silence.

"Holy, fucking shit! You _are _screwed." His friend said. "We _are _screwed." He added.

_Holy, fucking shit, indeed. _He agreed silently. They are both royally screwed. There is not enough time to produce the series with four months left until the deadline. If he could not come up with something within the week, who knows what will happen?

_Breach of contract. _They were both thinking.

Natsuki stood up, scratching the rough stubble of facial hair on his chin. Maybe if he took a bath, his mind would clear up and something good will be squeezed out by his brain. He glanced at Ryuuya, who was still munching on the food absentmindedly, while holding the Coke with his other hand. He's probably contemplating on what reasons he can give to the gallery owner while they scrambled for something to produce within the timeframe.

He was about to tell his friend to wait for him while he goes for a quick shower when the sound of smashing glass interrupted him.

Against the glinting afternoon sunlight, the jagged shards of float glass landed on the wooden floor, marking broken patterns on the wood. A dirty baseball lay near the broken shards, wobbling a bit on the uneven surface it landed on until it stopped moving.

He saw that one of his windows had a hole on it, the sharp edges of the opening outlining where the ball entered.

_These fucking annoying kids._

Natsuki was not overly fond of his neighbors and their kids. He preferred solitude and being alone. Unfortunately, the reason why he chose the apartment he was in was because of the amount of light coming through the slanted roof covering his studio. It was the one of the apartment's best rooms. With its large airy space, wooden floorboards and clean, straight lines, he immediately envisioned it as his own. And the comfortable climate inside the apartment was thanks to its unique wall trellises filled with climbing roses. It covers several parts of the apartment's exterior, making it look picturesque when viewed outside. It had the feel of a country cottage. If anything, he love nothing more but being surrounded by beauty. Though the havoc he created inside, once he started working in his studio, is anything but.

The place is so good, its bound to have some setbacks. And the setbacks come in the form of annoying neighbors who has kids. Young kids, especially. Young, middle-school brats.

He quickly went to the window, intending to shout at the culprits one level below him. He slid the damaged window part up and was about to lean out to scream his head off at them when he caught a whiff of lavender and vanilla in the soft, gentle breeze that came in.

_Strawberries and cherries_

_An Angel's kiss in the spring_

A foot below him, directly where the trellis ends, was a young girl climbing up to his window. Her long, straight hair glinted in the sunlight, making them glow a warm, reddish gold color. He saw her eyes and stopped. For a second he thought them colorless, transparent, like glass or clear mountain water. But when he blinked back at her, they were actually a bright amber color, with tinges of gold and a hint of green around the irises.

Her face were sharp, chin a bit on the pointy side. Her nose is small, like a button, cute even. And her lashes are sooty, heavily fringing her incredible eyes.

_My summer wine is really_

_Made from all these things_

As she slowly climbed further up, meeting him eye to eye, he suddenly held his breath as she was silhouetted against the light.

_Porcelain. _He thought. And his heart begins to race. He could feel the vibration running down his arms and his fingertips. His senses awakening as if from a deep sleep.

Her skin has this pale, pale color of porcelain. Like fresh milk that would easily blush in the slightest provocation. The sunlight seemed to pass through her thin frame, making her glow from within. _Is there such thing as a glowing body? _Her long, slender neck was perfect, smooth and fragile, disappearing in the opened V-neck of her blouse. She was wearing a school uniform, with sailor collars in dark blue, the blouse white and buttons in the same dark blue hue. The hems of her blouse billowed in the breeze, offering tantalizing glimpses of female flesh.

_Take off your silver spurs_

_And help me pass the time_

He took a step back, as if giving permission to let her in.

She gave a sheepish smile, understanding coloring her eyes. A faint blush creeping underneath her white skin.

"I'm sorry" she whispered. "I did not catch the ball. Did I hurt anyone?"

He shook his head and swallowed. He was afraid to blink lest the vision before him disappeared.

"I am going to get the ball. Do you mind?"

"No." he managed to squeak out. _Tell me I'm not dreaming._ Behind him, he could hear footsteps come nearer and knew that Ryuuga is now standing beside him, watching.

She smile. A slow, sweet smile that seemed to make his heart skip a beat.

_Ahh. What did I do good that I was suddenly rewarded with such a perfectly unspoiled specimen of beauty?_

The girl lifted her right leg and hooked herself on the windowsill. Her short, navy blue uniform skirt, knee length probably, hitched higher, exposing more flesh, and he felt himself hardening at the sight before him. Had she been careless in her window climbing, she could be flashing her underwear at him_- err-_ them, he amended to himself, remembering that Ryuuya was still inside the room with him. Her white socks were dirty and stained with grass, and her black shoes were dusty. She ducked her upper body slightly, before entering the window with a ballerina's grace. Snatching the ball on the floor, she looked up at the two of them apologetically.

"I'm sorry about the broken window. Please do not scold Hotaro. I can pay for the bill."

"No need, young lady. It's all right." It was Ryuuya who spoke.

"That's very kind and understanding of you." She beamed at them before turning her back, preparing to go out the same way.

Natsuki cleared his throat. "Uh, would you like to use our main door instead?"

She turned back to face him. "No thank you. I will go out the same way. Besides, I love smelling the roses." And with that, she climbed out of the window as easily as she had climbed in.

_Who took the silver spurs, a dollar and a dime?_

_And left us cravin' for more summer wine?_

Natsuki rushed to the window and leaned out.

The young girl was quick and agile, already halfway down. The baseball she tucked inside her blouse, precisely resting on top of her chest. He could almost make out a hint of bosom with the extra opening the ball had created.

Finally, she jumped down the last few steps and landed on her feet.

"Thank you!" she mouthed at him, waving, the breeze blowing her hair around her face, she took the ball out of her blouse like it was a natural thing to do, even if a grown man like him was staring down with a clear view of everything. _This girl, have she no sense of modesty?_

She crossed the street below him, going to the direction of the park opposite his apartment where a group of kids playing baseball in the open grass ran to meet her.

The glass made crunching sounds as his slippered feet moved away from the window.

"Careful." Ryuuga said sharply. He already had a small broom on his hands.

Natsuki sat down on the edge of his day bed, breathing heavily, senses tingling, alive and pumped with energy. The vibrations on his fingertips have not stopped. His hands ached to hold a pencil to capture the moment. But he ignored it. He continued to stare at the window, wanting to freeze the image inside his mind: the lights, the colors, the smell of lavender and vanilla, grass stains and dying roses. And her skin. The smell of her skin, even the saltiness of her sweat and the texture of her clothes. Ahh if only he had touched her arm even for a few seconds. Or even the silkiness of her hair. He wondered whether he could sleep tonight, knowing he would be dreaming about her. Sweet, delicious dream filled with white skin, light, floating hair and eyes that will follow him inside the recesses of his mind.

_The first painting, Fateful Encounter, _he thought to himself.

"There's the answer to your prayers." Ryuuga said as soon as he finished sweeping the floor free of broken glass. "And she looks fourteen."

"God." Natsuki moaned. "How am I gonna touch her without being labeled as a pervert? She looked like the embodiment of a modern day Lolita!"

**oOoOoOo**

**A/N: Hi, before you post your violent reactions, complaints and rants, please visit my profile page first to explain further on this new series. **

**Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I've been banging my head trying to complete Underage Love. And I'm already halfway on Chapter 25 when insanity took over and I erased the whole thing. It doesn't look right. So here I am crying my heart out on the first day of the year. So instead of wallowing in pity, I decided to refine Chapter 2 of this series that I created a long time ago and just upload it. I hope you enjoy this. I'm trying to make some adjustments on Cecil's Muse too, so if things go well, maybe I will give in and upload the next chapter also. So that I can get these out of the way and focus more on Underage Love. If you are intent on following this series, I'm posting a warning that this is a love story and drama between two people (what do you guys call it? a may-december love story?) so, Haruka here is probably too young for your taste. So If you don't want me to spoil your sensibilities, please refrain from reading and posting your complaints on the review button. Thanks!**

**Apologies on the grammar and spelling. Happy New Year to you.**

**Enjoy. **

**Chapter 2- Persuasion**

Natsuki poured paint cleaner on a dirty plastic cup and dunked his brushes on it, swirling them in the strong-smelling liquid. One by one, he began to wipe the bristles vigorously against a clean white cloth, removing the stains and residue. It's important for him to prep his brushes before he begins to work. He can be so horribly irritated when he needed a brush that he neglected to clean. After cleaning the bristles, he inserted a plastic protector on each brush and turned them down, bristles first, on a clean, clear container to let them dry naturally. The plastic protector helps keep his brush in shape. He likes it when his brushes are in a good shape, like keeping all his pencils neat and sharp. He can happily spend the whole day just sharpening his pencils.

He whistled under his breath, feeling slightly euphoric.

Last night was a breakthrough for him. He had finally achieved the correct color blending that he needed when he painted her eyes.

It took him three days, just to achieve the right amount of colors. His first attempt was horrible, tawny golden color like the eyes of a jaguar. The eyes were stunning, calculating, and very wrong. He immediately scraped off the paint and started redoing it. The girl doesn't give off that kind of dangerous aura. Those were the eyes of a predator.

Her eyes and her expression give her a soft gentle look, easily breakable, like any wrong move and she would disappear like fine mist. Her eyes made him think of warm summers, custard pies and gooey, golden caramel candy.

He felt like celebrating last night after he puts the final finishing touches on the painting he made. True, he had only worked on part of her forehead and nose, including her eyes. He still have the rest of her face to do, but her eyes have taken most of the time and effort from him. And he was fairly satisfied with the results. It's not the best he can do, but judging from memory recall, it's the best that he can achieve for the moment.

He stopped whistling.

Damned it. What is he thinking? He does not want to release such shabby work of art. His reputation is at stake here! And he won't be able to live up to his standards if this workmanship quality continues.

Angrily tossing the rag he used to clean his brushes, he turned and went back to the canvas he had set up in the center of the room, snagging some wet handy wipes to clean his hands. The white stretch piece of woven cotton he used to practice the look he wanted was filled with touches of colors at the sides and edges, leaving the center clean for the outline of her eyes.

He stared broodingly at the image before him. He wanted to paint the shape of her face and the column of her neck. He wanted to experiment on what colors he would use to portray the whiteness of her skin, or even the faint blushing underneath it. Her eyes alone were not enough. Dreaming about her is not enough. Neither recalling her from his memory is also not enough.

What to do about his predicament? The worn out calendar sitting on one of the dusty tables informed him he had less than four months now. He sighed deeply and went back to his daybed where he laid down on his back and stared at the ceiling. The temperatures are soaring high today. The airconditioning is broken, and Ryuuya have yet to call the repairman. The overhead ceiling fan lulled lazily, stirring up more hot air. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.

Despite Ryuuya's persuasion to let him talk to the girl, he shot down his request. The girl is too young to pose. Too naïve to understand what goes on in the art world. Too innocent to suspect she is going to be exploited.

He won't allow it. He does not want to ruin her remaining childhood years through his exploitation. Sure, the chances of her becoming famous are high. _As his muse. _But after which, what will happen to her? People will assume they have done the deed. That he had deliberately took advantage of her. God, it sounds so much like he almost raped her. Once the art world gets wind of the paintings he will produce, she will be fair game to any man after he is finished with her. Her parents will have his head if he so much as touched a strand of her hair.

But how else would he capture her essence if he doesn't touch her? His power of transforming his art to life not only lies on his eyes alone. He needed to touch her, smell her. The thought of stroking her petal soft skin made his nostrils flare with tension and excitement. His creativity was aroused, and it would torment him until he gives in. And there lies the problem. He found his muse, yet he could not even get close to her.

He was only lying still for about ten minutes or so when he heard a dull thumping sound inside the room. Something soft seemed to have landed on the timber floors of his studio. Since the broken glass window incident, he left all the windows opened to minimize the chances of having another broken window to repair. It also means that he is reducing the chances of ever seeing _her _again. He ignored the noise, still keeping his eyes close. He wanted to sleep and any minute now, his eyes would be drowsy. But a new sound distracted his concentration. And this one is deliberately made to become softer, as if someone is trying to make as less noise as possible.

And then the smell of lavender and vanilla assailed his nose.

His eyes flew open and tilted his head sideways, automatically looking around the room on the source of that incredible, familiar scent.

There she was again. Standing near the window as the afternoon sunlight poured in with her. Dust particles spiraled in the air around her. She had entered the same window where he first met her, looking guilty and adorable at the same time.

She peered cautiously about, not noticing that he was there on the bed lying on his back, some few feet away. Gently, she tiptoed barefoot across the timber floor, her footsteps light, graceful. She picked up the soft, rubbery football lying on the moveable table, where he kept his tubes of acrylic and oil paints and boxes of brushes. She tucked the football under her right arm before taking another sweeping glance on the room. Deciding that no one is about, she turned around, preparing to leave when she paused to her side.

Her eyes caught the object he had painted on the canvas.

Natsuki held his breath as she stood there quietly, watching her. Slowly, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, studying her slender body and the profile of her face. As she walks towards the canvas, her hair gently bounces behind her back, while a few short strands fell gently to the side of her face. It was such a nice reddish gold color, gleaming like satin in the overhead lights, straight and silky, truly a magnificent crowning glory.

For a few minutes, there was only silence, punctured by his and hers slow breathing.

He could not stand it any longer. She was only a few feet away from him. The tingling on his fingers is sending shockwaves all around his veins. They are vibrating for him, waiting for him to surrender to their demands.

He needed to touch. He needed to feel her skin, touch the soft hairs at her nape, the sensitive skin behind her ears. He needed to hear the crisp rustling of her uniform, smell the lavender from the base of her neck, the vanilla between the crevices of her secret folds of flesh. He swallowed painful, trying to normalize his breathing. _This won't do. Don't fuck this up Natsuki!_

Before he can stop himself, he bolted up from his bed and strode purposefully towards where she was standing. The sudden noises he made was not lost to her. She turned suddenly, meeting his eyes as he stood there face to face with her at last.

There it was again. Those eyes that seemed to trick him at first glance. Colorless, transparent. Until you blink and see their bright amber color, green and gold mixing around the edges.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked her, his voice purring, deep and resonating. He can be most persuasive when he wants to. He was born with a melodious voice to boot. He does not want to take advantage of the girl any more than what was necessary, but what can he do? His control is hanging by a thread. As she stood there before him, her beauty is even more vivid than what he could ever recall about her from the recesses of his memory. Tonight, he can draw her eyes with perfect precision.

She nodded. "I like it very much. Are there more to see?" Such a nice, pretty voice coming from someone like her. _Did he just hear bells in her lilting voice?_

He shook his head regretfully. "No more. I cannot do anymore. My memory is not good."

"That's too bad." She looked crestfallen. "Your painting is so beautiful." She reached out with her free hand and touched the dried paint. He almost let out a groaned as he imagined her hands touching another part of his anatomy.

_Don't go in there, Natsuki, _a voice warned inside his head.

He waited for her to take the initiative, staring at her with such scorching intensity that he would be surprised if her hair did not get singed.

He was not disappointed.

"Then, how about if I stay here and sit for you? You can do my portrait." She smiled that dazzlingly brilliant smile of hers. It took his breath away, and for a moment, he basked in her brightness.

"You have nothing better to do?" he dangled the bait a bit more, liking the blaze of interest lighting up her amber eyes.

"OF course not!" she frowned slightly. She took the soft, squishy football tucked from under her arm and held it with both her hands. "I'll just give this back to them."

She left him in a cloud of intoxicating vanilla-lavender scent, as she hurried next to the same window she came in from last time. Ducking her head out, she yelled "Hey, I'm out! Better look for a replacement." She tossed the ball as a chorus of "Awww..Come on Haru-chan! You're a good catcher!" could be heard.

_Haru.._

He saw her shaking her head, hair whipping around her face in the gentle breeze. "I'll play again tomorrow, you can all come over to my house for some brownies and milk!"

They all replied with a series of resounding "Yes!" and "Count me in!" before they trudge reluctantly away from his property, their footsteps muffled by his unkempt grass that Ryuuya has yet to get it trimmed.

"Your friends?" he asked, peering over her shoulder at the group of middle school brats still wearing their respective uniforms running back to the park, each kid clutching a towel or a cap. One of them was holding the ball she had retrieved earlier from this room.

"Yup!" she answered, turning to face him.

He towered over her with his impressive height. Although she looks tall for a girl her age, she only barely reached his shoulder.

She is wearing the same blue sailor uniform, the first time he saw her. He wondered whether she looks twice as good in normal everyday clothes. Or would she look even better without them on?

Just the thought of her standing naked in front of him sent a stir on his loins. He clamped down the desire raging from his pores. Better not frighten the girl more than what is necessary. Besides, he has work to do and a reputation to maintain.

"Shall we begin?" he murmured to her, loving the faint pink blush rising in her cheeks. He can achieve that color soon, he thought to himself, already thinking how much carmine red and titanium white he needed to blend to get the correct tone he wants.

He reached down and fingered the ends of her hair. The blunt tips were like silky thread ends. He tugged her towards him gently, speaking in a hypnotic voice. "If you are determined to help me, there are conditions to this kind of work. Do you think you are still willing once you hear them out?"

_No, no, no. Natsuki, don't you dare take advantage of the girl!_

She nodded her agreement, "Okay" she answered, giving her consent innocently.

He took a step back and then another, feeling like a sorcerer luring a fairy into his trap. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, as he began to hum a lullaby for her.

_She's a girl with many quirky ways_

_She can take you to another place._

_Where she'll explore you_

_And adore you_

_In her way_

They reach the edge of his daybed. Still holding the ends of her silky hair between his fingertips, he placed both of his hands on her slender waist before whirling her around.

The sudden action caused her to loose her balance and she toppled on top of the daybed unceremoniously.

_Like petals falling, _he thought, climbing on the bed with her, pushing her further in the middle, while he propped his arms and legs on both side of her. He did not lose his eye contact with her, studying the depth and clarity of her irises as if he is confronting a rare diamond specimen.

"In order for you to become my model, you will be subjected to a most thorough examination." He whispered softly.

She nodded without saying anything, mesmerized by the seductive tone of his voice.

"When I mean _subject to a most thorough examination", _he said in a bit harsher tone, "I meant that you will feel my hands roaming all over your body. Are _you _okay with that?" _Say no please! Goddamned it!_

"Yes." She answered simple, oh so innocently.

He hardened, eyes narrowing. _God, I sure am gonna regret what I'm about to do to her. _

"Close your eyes."

And she did.

**oOoOoOo**

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this series and check out my other works too. Thanks for your support and help with my works. Lyrics are from The Corrs' Love in the Milkyway. Oh yeah, titles of the chapters will be the titles of Natsuki's series of art works dedicated to his young muse. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yeah! My muse is active today! Hurray! (Must. Take. Advantage. While. She. Is. In. The. Mood) This is an early posting! For readers of Cecil's Muse and Underage Love, please check them out as I have posted an update recently. **

**Pardon my grammar and spelling mistakes. And oh, some lemon and lime below to accompany you with your (ahem) tea break.**

**Chapter 3- Curiosity**

"Now that's what I call a masterpiece!"

Natsuki Shinomiya was too tired to be startled when he felt his friend, Ryuuya Hyuuga put his heavy arm around his shoulder, and began to study the canvas in front of him. He was just contemplating on the finishing touches when his booming voice punctured the quiet stillness of his room.

Rubbing the faint stubble growing on his chin, Ryuuya stared at the canvas intently. "The way you captured her eyes is magnificent. Your memory is improving!" he complimented unknowingly.

Avoiding eye contact, Natsuki slowly bought his palette down and placed it gingerly on his mobile table. The fine, soft round brush he was holding clattered on the clear space beside it, and he grabbed a rag to wipe the paint stains from his hands.

Four days of furious painting. Four days of intense scheming. It was actually a well-spent four days if you ask his personal opinion. The face staring right back at him was incredibly accurate. It looked almost real, like the face was caught in between time, suspended for a moment. He was particularly happy with the way he finally captured the life in her eyes. The golden orbs seemed to follow him everywhere he went within his room, the reflection of light just enough to give a hint of wonder and innocence she was emitting. He had personally counted the number of hairs growing in her lashes. It seemed so weird that he would go as far as counting the number of hairs at the edge of the soft skin covering her incredible eyes. But he was thorough with his work, if not obsessed.

"_Hold still." He said softly, as he moved closer against her body. "Am I too heavy?" he demanded, letting his hand stroke the shell of her ears, loving the silky softness of her fine hair standing, straining on his electrified stroking._

"_N-no." she replied, and her warm breath smelled wonderful to him. "But how long should I keep my eyes closed?"_

"Excellent work, if I do say so myself" Ryuuya continued to stroke his chin. "I feel like pinching her cheek even if the canvas is flat." He turned to face him while he never uttered a word as he continued to admire the first of his series.

"Should I pop the champagne out, now that we are back in business?" he joked, leaving him standing there, as if hypnotized. His leather shoes made low tapping noises on the timber floor, as he headed straight to the bar, where he started raiding his fridge for something to munch on.

_First Encounter, _Natsuki thought, ignoring his quip, still determined to name his first painting as what he envisioned on the first day he saw her. He turned to another, bigger canvas sitting next to it, this time depicting a pair of hands: his and hers. _Persuasion. _He was adding highlights to the reddish-gold hair under the entwined hands resting on the bed when Ryuuya interrupted him. Her hands felt small, her fingers thin and slender. When he held her with a vise-like grip, he found that if he is not careful, he could easily break the fragile bones of her wrists.

Staring down at his hands, he could almost feel her satiny skin gliding against his rough, calloused ones. He could tell she had not known another man's hands by the way she shyly linked hers with his.

He contemplated whether he should tell Ryuuya about the girl, but after seeing the way he teased his women, he felt like he wanted to keep this secret all to himself. The less people who know, the better. Besides, the more he touches her, the more he gets possessive about his subject. He could not wait to see her again.

Touching her for the first time was a revelation. She was like a hothouse flower blooming before him. He doesn't want to frighten her with his work methods, so he confined himself to studying and touching her face and neck up close, albeit with her body immobilized under him.

"_As long as necessary." He said, in reply to her question. He could feel her squirming under his body, as he pinned her on the bed with his heavy weight. She did not made any sound of protest with the way their bodies touched intimately, but he knew she was uncomfortable with her hands trapped between them. _

_Easing his weight a bit off her, he snatched her hands and brought them higher above her head, brushing the silky strands of her hair. He had laid her to bed spread-eagled, the edge of her blouse hitching up to reveal her bare midriff. Her navy blue, school girl skirt riding even higher, and he could glimpse the lace edges of her white cotton panties. _

_Snaking his arms around her, he continued to nuzzle the soft skin of her neck. From his close vantage point, he could see the way her pulse jumps and knew she is aroused as much as he is. Except in her age, she has yet to add in her vocabulary what the 'aroused' means. Her heart is thundering like a racehorse, and he could feel the twin lumps of her breast brushing beneath his chest, as she huffed out her ragged breathing. _

_He lowered his mouth and let out his tongue to taste her skin. She gave a soft gasp._

_Lick, lick. Ever so slowly, like savoring a scoop of ice cream to quench his hot throat._

_And she tasted even better than the vanilla-lavender scent he was breathing through his nostrils._

Feeling himself harden a bit, he clenched his teeth and dumped the rag together with the palette. He needs a shower and fast. He had not taken any for the past two days. He was getting itchy and twitchy again.

'You stay here, we have a lot to discuss." He said tersely, strolling away from the circle of easels he had set up in the middle of the room. He walked straight to his bedroom, grabbed a fresh towel from one of the drawers of his closet and went to the bathroom, shutting the door securely behind him. Quickly positioning himself inside the shower cubicle, he adjusted the brass knobs for the right temperature and a soothing stream of water began to pour out of the rain nozzle above him, wetting his hair until it was plastered on his skull.

He closed his eyes, letting his hand and mind wander.

_Lick. Lick. "So your name is Haru-chan." He whispered against her baby soft skin. The rise and fall of her chest beneath him was doing amazing things on his libido, and he had to clamp down on his discipline. This is work! Nothing more!_

_She nodded. "H-haruka. Nanami. Haruka Nanami."_

_A pretty name, for a very pretty girl. _

"_How old are you, Haruka?" his forefinger traced a pattern of blue-green veins visible from her neck. He felt the goosebumps forming in her flesh and he let out a slow smile of satisfaction. _

"_Fourteen. Going fifteen. In four months."_

Interesting, Natsuki thought, his left arm propped on the marble-tiled wall in front of him, while his right hand roamed down his body, cupping his hardening sex. His fingers finally enclosing the engorged flesh, quivering with life.

_Natsuki wanted to bite his tongue in anger and annoyance at this revelation, but he was too intoxicated with her scent to care for the moment. He was right, he could be jailed for seducing a girl barely out of her primary levels._

_His thumb flicked on her lower lip, which she jutted out, to show she was slightly irritated that her eyes was still closed and she could not see. She could only feel the delicious sensations he was bestowing on her. _

_It's amazing how her senses are enhanced, once one of them are temporarily incapacitated. And for this case, he had especially asked to close her eyes, so that the impact of his touch would render her helpless against his tender assault. _

_He grabbed a handful of her hair at the base of her neck and gently tugged. _

_She instantly opened her mouth to protest. "Ahhh..That hurt."_

"_Sorry sweetheart. I wanted to see what's inside of your mouth." He peered into her open mouth, and found perfectly aligned white teeth, no decayed enamels, healthy gums. He was mesmerized with her pink, wet tongue. _

The water was slowly losing its hot temperature, but Natsuki doesn't care. His mind was concentrating on the inside of her mouth, while his hands was gently stroking his hardened flesh.

"_You have nice, perfect teeth." He said in approval. If she has bad spots on her teeth, he would toss her out without a backwards glance. But so far, he is not disappointed with his subject. She is almost perfect in every way. And he has yet to uncover more._

"_My grandmother is very strict with hygiene. She instructs our housekeeper to make sure I brush my teeth everytime I eat or drink something." she said, moistening her lips. _

"_Do that again." He commanded. _

"_What?" she asked, confused etched on her face, eyelids still scrunched shut._

"_Lick your lips."_

_Slowly, her pink, moist tongue darted out and wetted her lips. Natsuki bit his, his pores raging with arousal, hands twitching for a piece of paper and charcoal. _

God! Natsuki is feeling his lower nether regions tensed with mounting excitement. The pace of his stroking increased.

_Wanting to touch more, he placed his forefinger at her lower lip, stroking the skin there. She let out a tiny mewling sound._

"_Open your mouth, Haru-chan."_

_She opened it slightly, and he inserted his finger in, touching her teeth, testing their strength; stroking her tongue as it shyly touched his finger. _

_His breath hitched, and his flesh responded, screaming for release. She would be the death of him, even if he manages to finish his series. _

_Emboldened by his invasive finger, she closed her mouth around it and began to stroke it inside with her lollipop tongue. _

Letting out a groan, Natsuki gave a jerk, and he shuddered his release, shooting pearly strands of his seed. He continued to stroke his flesh vigorously until he could milk himself no more. He closed his eyes, smashing his fists on the marble wall in frustration and shame. The water has gone cold.

**oOoOoOo**

"Here!" he tossed a crumpled piece of paper to his friend, who was comfortably propped up on his favorite sofa smoking like a demon and privately chuckling at his rolled up copy of smutty comics, which he probably tucked into his back pocket when he came up to visit him.

"Hey, watch it!" Ryuuya almost dropped his stick as he caught the paper between his fingers. The ash from his cigarette dropped on his pants, and he let out a yelp, quickly brushing the grey stuff off.

The grey ash stain stuck. "Man, this sucks!" he whined, before carefully placing his remaining stick on the overflowing ashtray on the floor.

Natsuki ignored him, still holding his fluffy towel, as he vigorously rubbed his hair dry. Even with the fresh scent of soap assailing his nostrils, he can still smell faint vanilla and lavender permeating the inside of his airy room. He wanted to close his window to keep her scents in, but he does not want to deter her means of entry/exit now that they had both opened Pandora's box.

His friend let a whistle in the background. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw he had perused the list, his mouth slowly hanging wide open as he read each item listed.

The usual five basic items where first on the list: his usual set of brushes, canvases, oil paints, paint cleaner and clay. The next were his basic food groups: seafood cup noodles, bottles of green tea, and microwave dinners.

What followed was probably what made his friend's mouth hang open.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ryuuya exploded, jumping off his seat, and strolling towards him, waving the list on his face. "A large, pure white stuffed bear with a red bow tied on its neck? A bunch of exotic flowers delivered to your place every Mondays and Thursdays? Ten yards of pure black silk? Have you gone mad?"

He lifted his eyebrows in annoyance. "Do you want your series to be finished?" he asked coldly. He watched as his friend struggled between turning purple with anger and red with embarrassment. The color was a bad combination he does not want to imprint on his mind. He needed to clear his head for her when she comes.

Ryuuya deflated in defeat. "Damned it!" He put up both his hands to massage his temples, the veins on his neck, popping out. "How the hell am I supposed to buy these stuff myself?" he complained.

"Get someone else to buy it for you." He answered frostily, tossing his towel carelessly on one of the empty chairs, "you can even jump over the bridge if you don't arrange for these by the end of the week, I don't care. I've got a deadline hanging around my pretty little neck!"

"Fine." Ryuuya fumed. "You will have your stuff, guaranteed."

"Good. No excuses." He was suddenly tired despite the shower he had just took. He was suddenly in no mood to work. He had spent the last of his energy taming his appetite for her during his shower. He wanted to sleep. "And get the airconditioning guy to come, for chrissake! It's freaking hot in here in the afternoon!"

"This had better be worth it." His friend muttered to himself, flicking a lighter to light up his fresh stick of cigarette.

_It's more than worth it. Even if it means spending the rest of my life in jail for seducing and corrupting a child. _Natsuki thought to himself, watching as his friend snatch his smutty comics and rolled it, before strolling out of the room, the trail of cigarette smoke mingling with the vanilla and lavender scent.

**oOoOoOo**

He had barely slept for quite some time, when he felt his bed depress ever so slightly. Thinking he was imagining things, he continued to keep his eyes closed, his mind halfway between dreaming and waking up, filled with images of what pose he wanted to see her into.

It was not until something heavy sat on his crotch and her signature scent filled his nose did his eyes flew open.

"Hi." Haruka had her hands propped on the bed, her face inches from him, as she stared at him eye to eye. Her glorious hair was falling like waterfall all over the sides of her face.

Her eyes have this mischievous twinkle that made him want to scoop her body and crushed her with his weight. Her cheeks were red, forehead smudge with some dirt, and there was even a blade of grass twisted with her hair. Looking down, he saw grass stains on her uniform, and her long, slender legs straddling him on his hips. Her navy blue skirt barely covering the juncture of her upper thighs and the khaki cloth covering his hardening member. God! She must have been wearing her usual cotton panties again!

"How long have you been in?" he asked coquettishly, placing his palms behind her bare knees.

She shrugged. "Not too long ago. I ate some chocolate bars inside your fridge. I hope you don't mind. I was hungry. And you have no milk!"

"I don't mind. I will buy some milk for you next time" He gave a tiny groan of satisfaction, as she wriggled on top of him, too innocent to care on the bulging at the center of his crotch. _Dear Lord. What kind of punishment do you want to give me? _"Tell me what you want to eat so that when you come over next time, you can raid the fridge anytime you want something to eat." _Hell you can even raid the inside of my pants for all I care. _

She nodded thoughtfully. "Great idea. I always get famished when I play football with my friends." Referring to the neighborhood brats she always play with. "I want some graham crackers, toasted marshmallows and juicy strawberries." She ticked off the foods with her fingers.

"Is that why you are covered with dirt and grass stains again?" he asked, smoothing out the wrinkles on her blouse, barely brushing the top of her covered breasts. His cock twitched in response.

"Uh-huh. You told me to come back tomorrow, but I was distracted during the game, so I told my friends I'll play with them again next time and climbed up the trellis."

Distracted? "About what?" he linked one of his arms around her tiny waist, locking her into place. He felt the grinding of her feminine mound against his, shooting bolts of pleasure. He wanted to thoroughly ravish her in bed now, but the calling of his senses to memorize her facial expression and the smells she was emitting is greater. She smelled like spring and sunshine and forbidden curiosity.

_Curiosity. _He could not help but smile slightly with the simple word popping in his head. It was so easy to come up with new ideas on what to paint next whenever he is holding her close to him.

"I wanted to see how much you resemble Romeo Montague from the 1968 Shakespeare film we were forced to watch in Literature class today." She said nonchalantly, as her hands touched his chest, and he could feel them through his thin cotton shirt. He swallowed painfully. _Uh-oh._

He laid more comfortably on the daybed, hands still locked on her waist, as she leaned against him, allowing her curiosity to roam freely. Her fingers probed and touched his nose, his chin and his forehead, brushing his hair away from his face. Her ministrations left him wanting for more as he let out a sigh of contentment.

"And?" he asked softly, laughter threatening to bubble up from within. "Do I resemble him?"

"No." she said, stroking his ears, sending shivers down his spine. "You're even better looking than him."

**oOoOoOo**

**A/N: thanks for all your comments. Why don't you post a nice review and tell me how you feel about this series so far?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Eh. It's summer, and the new second season of Uta-Pri is out now. Erm better get those portable fans and extra glasses of cold drinks, the guys are super hot, and I can't handle all that heat. I wonder how Haruka survives living in a dorm overloaded with male testosterone?**

**Warning: A lot, a lot of swearing, some Natsuki-limey goodness, and more author's notes below. Need to air out some issues. **

**Oct. 13, 2013: This chapter contains light lime/lemon that has been edited to become more acceptable to admin regulation standards. To view and read the full version please visit the author's profile page for more information.**

**Chapter 4- Restraint**

_Her lips were so hot against his skin that for a second it felt like she was branding him as her own. Her candy-sweet tongue was making delicious things that he felt himself going half-mad with desire and lust. _

"_Haruka.." he groaned with aching need. "What are you doing to me?"_

He reached down and cupped himself...

**oOoOoOolime/lemonoOoOoOo**

Digging the balls of his foot on the bed, he ignored the tangled sheets twisting around his strong legs as he braced himself for the explosion. Continuing his stroking motions, he gritted his teeth, shutting his eyes and imagining her slender hands, running up and down his rock hard body, exploring, mouth coaxing him further at the edge of the cliff.

In his mind, a barely naked Haruka pinned him against the bed, shiny, silky hair falling all over her face and spilling into his skin. Smooth, slim body straddling him with her young thighs.

And then..

"Haahhhhh…" Natsuki almost bit his tongue to keep himself from shouting as he found his release. He need not concern himself on the stains it would leave on his bedcovers. He had already ruined the freshly laundered sheets yesterday, after waking up from the catnap he took, and felt himself rock hard. He decided against changing the sheets today. He probably wouldn't last this day without another round of masturbating and risk another ruined bed sheet. He would change them tomorrow. For the first time in months, he was running through his complete supply of linens in a matter of days. He wondered briefly what the reaction of the local proprietor of the Laundromat will be once he noticed the odor coming from the sheets. No matter, his friend was the one who usually drops them off for him for cleaning. And he pays good money to have them clean and fresh anyway. So whatever thoughts drift in the old lady's mind, she'd better keep it to herself.

**oOoOoOolime/lemonoOoOoOo**

The tension flavoring his room died down. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, feeling disgusted with himself. Once the wave of tingling pleasure slowly disappeared, he reached over for a handful of tissues from his bedside table, the box almost empty with his constant use.

How many times did he masturbate this week while thinking of her?

_Countless._

It has been almost a week since she last visited. She promised to come the day after tomorrow, when her mock finals are over. Feeling abandoned and restless, he resorted to eliminating his anxiety by crossing out the days on the cheap calendar he found lying between the old smutty magazines Ryuuya always left by his favorite couch. His easels on his studio are already gathering dust at the edges. He barely touched them for three days. He knew he is still way behind schedule, even if he had produced almost half a dozen canvases and a couple of sculptures. However, yesterday was still productive, as he managed to complete the outline of the soundtrack he wanted for his exhibit.

Kicking the sheets wrapped around his legs, he sat up. He felt like a dirty old man, lusting after young, sweet schoolgirls. He hated being rendered mindless when he is with her. And yet he could not help it.

Every time she drops by his studio, hair disheveled from an afternoon romp in the playground, skin smelling like vanilla and girl sweat. He tried to clamp down the raging urge to dominate her. He would often clench his fists, trying to stop the surge of vibrations his hands emit. It won't do to scare her more, he was already lucky that she is innocent and pliant enough to manipulate according to his will.

And while she is guileless and naïve enough to comply with his wishes, underneath his hooded and penetrating gazes, all he wanted to do was to paint her and then ravish her afterwards.

He sighed. What the fuck is wrong with him? He supposed maybe it was out of desperation that inspiration on her suddenly struck him like lightning. And when a subject takes a firm grip on his imagination, he is powerless to stop it. He can only go with the flow. He shouldn't be asking this question. He already knows his strengths and weaknesses. This maniacal obsession with a subject just about describes his working style. And it suits him just fine. So what makes _her _different from other subjects aside from the fact that she is living and breathing?

Her liquid golden eyes?

That flowing red-gold hair that gleams brilliantly against the light?

Her sweet Cupid's bow mouth that is always moist?

_Dammit! _It must be that skin, he thought to himself, as he closed his eyes, his hands hovering in the air a little, as if stroking her skin in reality.

_They feel so soft, so smooth to touch, the fine hairs standing when stimulated._ Skin white as porcelain.

He felt himself hardening again. _Holy shit! _He got to stop thinking like a sex fiend and start concentrating like an artist if he needed to finish his works.

But it was like fighting a battle already losing in the first place.

_Fuck! _He swore, gripping the base of his shaft and he began to stroke his way into oblivion.

_Stop thinking about making love to her on the kitchen countertop._ But that thought only heightened his arousal. He gritted his teeth in defeat.

Fine. He could work this small detail later after he finished unloading his second explosion.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ryuuya almost choke on his cigarette as he burst out laughing again. "Fuck! For a second, I thought you were really getting some fine action there. And here I am thinking 'Well goddammit it's about time that young man has finally reached the end of his rope and had his way on her!'. But then when I peeped into the slightly open door, you're actually giving yourself a handjob!"

"Shut up!" Natsuki threw a sofa pillow at him, which his friend caught easily. His face is already hot with shame and embarrassment. To be caught in a compromising position with Haruka is embarassing, but not as shameful as masturbating alone. It sounded way even more pathetic when listening to it. "Get my bed sheets and bring them to the laundry cleaner. In fact why don't you strip the whole house of its linens so you have something to do?" he retaliated back at him, satisfaction lighting up his smirk, when he saw his friend drop the cigarette butt from his mouth.

_Serves him right for being such a sneak, _he smug getting wider. That will keep him preoccupied while I deal with my dilemma.

And to his annoyance_,_ instead of irritation, his friend clapped a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to stop himself from laughing louder. But his struggles proved nil.

"Oh, goddamit! Don't tell me you've been masturbating all over the house!" Ryuuya doubled over laughing, slapping his hands on his pant-covered thighs. "This is just too much for me!"

_What?! _"Just shut it and get to work! Or else no canvases for you this week!" he threatened, brandishing his brushes like a weapon.

His friend stood up, clapped a hand on his arm, shoulders still shaking. He slowly walked out of the room, tossing his coat on one of the chairs, before grabbing a black garment bag that lay abandoned on the floor. "Oy Natsu! If you badly needed someone, let me know and I can arrange a quick hook-up with one of my pillow friends!" he called out in a singsong voice, leaving him alone in his studio.

Natsuki ran a hand through his hair, more annoyed than ever. Ryuuya is actually a good friend, but he gets too much kick from making fun of him. Maybe its time he replaces him, he thought darkly.

Grabbing his jacket and his wallet, he took one of the spare house keys from the hooks near foyer and walked out of the house to get some fresh air and clear his mind. God knows how much he needed it. His ego has been badly beaten by Ryuuya's merciless teasing.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

He had just came out of the grocery, paper bags filled with milk, chocolate bars, chocolate chip cookies (the best kind he could find), strawberries and apples, cup ramens and ice cream when he noticed the vicinity where he was now is near a school. He hadn't stayed too long in this area to explore his surroundings, but he appreciates the unexpected surprises and thrill of discovering quirky characteristics of his quiet neighborhood: the bronze sculptures in the children's park, the congregation of street cats near the local bookstore, the informal meetings of bird lovers in the coffee shop and the beautiful, decorative paper lamps hanging outside the local temple.

A large group of similar-looking grey and white buildings was clumped together in an enclosed area with high walls covered with ivy. It was a Friday, and the time is just right for the schools to let out its students after a series of lessons. He could see young boys and girls in dark blue and white, navy-inspired uniforms, getting out of the main gates and walking in every different direction. Students whose uniforms are _similar as Haruka's._

He was about to ask one of the groups walking right past him whether they know Haruka when a splash of vibrant color caught his attention.

There she was giggling and smiling amidst the handful of girls around her age, all sporting the same style of uniforms she always wore when she visits him. She stood out like a jewel against a sea of dark velvet with her pale coloring and brilliant hair. Even at a distance, she looked perfect from her straight hair, blushing cheeks and slender ankles peeking from the tops of her white socks. Her clothes look a little rumpled, probably after a slew of sports-related activities she usually indulged herself with.

He was about to call out her name, when he remembered what he was wearing: dirty, paint-spattered jeans, dark, torn t-shirt with holes (his favorite vintage Rage Against the Machine shirt that he couldn't live without), worn-out flip flops and his eyeglasses. Anymore creepy accessory he could have sported and all he lack was a CHILD MOLESTER sign plastered on his forehead.

_Shit._

Without really thinking, he ducked into one of the dense bushes in front of him, startling a group of elementary students, who yelped out in surprise before hurrying away.

_Ouch! _He tried detangling his greasy blond hair from the thick brambles and bushes. His heart pounding rapidly with a combination of dread and anticipation.

He planted himself firmly on the ground, crouching into a more comfortable position, rendering himself invisible from the passing students. He would just wait for them to pass by him and then he would take a different route home. Encounters with Haruka in a public place is just invitation for more trouble that's for sure. And he wouldn't want that to happen. He could lose a lot when people start to probe on his bizarre acquaintance with her. And she could be losing more than he does.

For a few minutes, he waited, his breath slowing down into a normal pace. He was about to stand up and be on his way, when he caught the familiar lavender-vanilla scent he always associates her with. And he froze on his tracks.

"You know you can always drop by anytime, and have my mom explain it to us in detail about our lesson for today." A girl's voice was saying as they walked to a stop right about where he is hiding behind the dense bushes.

"Ugh! That would be too embarrassing!" Haruka's voice exclaimed. "I can't believe Principal Shining would be such a prude by having those illustrations covered with white stickers! I mean, come on! How are we supposed to learn?"

"Well, he completely revamped the whole curriculum with the permission of the majority of votes from parents who attended last year's PTA meeting." The girl Haruka was talking to replied. Natsuki, from his uncomfortable position could imagine her shrugging her shoulders as she said it.

_I wonder what they were talking about;_ he absentmindedly picked a few leaves from the grounds and began crushing the dried lamina between his fingers.

"And I'm really looking forward into submitting an essay for this lesson for an extra point credit." Haruka's voice trailed off, and Natsuki tensed, worried he might give himself away with his sorry excuse of a hiding place.

"Errk. You and your grades. You actually love all the lessons we have this year. You are truly an alien." Her friend made a noise of disgust before changing the subject. "What about asking your grandmother then? I'm sure she would be more than knowledgeable about explaining the whole _sex issue_ with you."

Natsuki snapped a twig he was holding.

Silence.

"Did you here that?" the other girl said, lowering her voice.

"I probably stepped on a twig or a dried branch." Haruka said nonchalantly. "Anyway, my grandmother is too busy with the family business to explain that to me in detail. Our housekeeper is too old for those topics; she might have a heart attack if I so much as breathe the word sex to her. But…" she paused.

Natsuki cannot help himself but look up from where he was sitting. Judging from the scent Haruka was emitting, she was standing almost next to him with only a thin layer of bushes separating them. His heart dropped to the pits of his stomach when he caught Haruka briefly capturing his eyes with hers, and he bit his tongue from shouting out in surprise. The girl has nerves of steel; it makes him scared of what to do about her boldness sometimes.

_Please don't make things more complicated, _he prayed silently. I'm having enough trouble just keeping my hands off her. Don't make her do this. Whatever _this _means.

"I may have _someone_ in mind that can help me answer questions." Haruka said, "I think I won't have any problem submit that essay in two weeks time after all."

"Oh, okay. Fine. Let me know how it works, in case my mom makes a puddle of things explaining it to me. I mean, I was hoping I'd have some company when she finally explain the intricate details to me." Her friend said. "Oops! There's the bus, gotta go! Call me!" there was rustle of leaves and clothes brushing the foliage, and a few seconds later, Natsuki heard quickened footsteps and the sound of a bus' engine. He closed his eyes, still praying that Haruka was just imagining that he was hiding next to her. God, where was that much needed hole when he needs it? He could use that space to crawl in and hide for the next three months.

He did not hear Haruka already crouching near him. And when he opened his eyes again, she was peering at his face in a most serious expression.

"Argh!' he stumbled back, dropping the paper bags he was holding, the plastic sack of apples bursting open. Out came the fruit tumbling.

Haruka's inquiring eyes look even more golden than usual. And for some reason, Natsuki was suddenly filled with visions of her sitting on a couch, hand holding a luscious-looking red apple.

Without saying a word, she took one of the said luscious, red apples, rubbed the sides against her uniform to clean the dirt off and took a small bite. That crunchy, appetizing sound seemed like music to his ears. He opened his mouth slightly in response, mouth watering instantly for a bite of an apple too.

_Forbidden fruit._

"What a bad habit you've got, Natsuki. Eavesdropping on other people's conversations. I thought adults should know better." She said holding the apple out to him.

He took it. The significance of the gesture was not lost to him. Ever so innocent of the sensual games she was playing with him, she is making an offering to him: she wants him to help her cross the bridge of adulthood and sexuality.

Afraid that he might breakdown from sensory overload, he took the apple she was holding out to him, his eyes never breaking contact with hers. When her steady gaze was too much for him, he was the one who broke the connection and glanced down at the fruit.

Her small bite mark was clearly imprinted in the apple's white and red flesh.

There was no turning back now.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**A/N: Thank you for all your comments (praises, constructive criticisms, etc. etc.) Loved reading all of them, I do not have enough time to highlight your names, but you know who you are, and I always will try to respond personally, as you all deserve personally replies, since you took the time and effort to drop a comment for little ol' me.**

**This story is purely fanfiction fantasy. Anyone who is offended by the age difference should not continue reading this stuff, as I don't like bashing in the first place. I mean, if you don't like it, why bother reading it in the first place?**

**I don't condone and/or encourage ideas or influences that child molestation, seduction, rape is acceptable. This series is purely for enjoyment of a chosen few who enjoy reading, erm, weird situations for our favorite characters (hence that's why you are in fanfiction universe in the first place).**

**By the way, someone commented that Haruka SHOULD know by now about hard-ons, pregnancy and sex. Err. Darling, when I was creating this story, I already addressed that issue somewhat. That is why I created this story, it's because I am implying that Haruka doesn't know a thing. And FYI, you should see the movie TEETH. That highschool heroine there is clueless about SEX! Plus, where I studied from, I learned about sex in grade 5 but couldn't even understand basic meanings of masturbate and hard-ons until I reached 17! So sue me! I'm that clueless! (boink)**

**Um.. another one said that Natsuki is a pedophile.. LOL. I checked Wikipedia. The correct term for Natsuki's sexual obsession with Haruka is hebephilia since Haruka's age in this story is 14 years old, as Hebephilia is classified as a person's preference of a sexual partner is between ages 11-14 (at the onset of puberty), while a pedophilia's preference is 13 years old and younger (prepubescent). (But then again, Natsuki's hebephilia is about the same as ephebophilia, as this term refers to a person's sexual interest for girls generally 14-19 years old (adolescence)). Hope you didn't get confused like me. . **

**Okay, I'm rambling. I better get started with my other chapters. **

**Let me know your violent reactions. :P**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Latest chapter! Hurray! I'm so relieved I managed to finish this in time. I have a few more chapters with my other works that I need to redo and edit. And I wanted to write as fast as I could.**

**Thank you for all the reviews, comments and private messages I got with this series. My sincere apologies for making you wait so long for the next one. I am trying my best to keep up, and as much as I wanted to do a weekly update, I don't want to post such crappy pieces. I wanted to take time and write, redo and edit until I feel it is reading for your viewing pleasure. Thanks for the support.**

**Grammar mistakes? Let me know. Post a review**

**Oct. 13, 2013 updates: Slight editing done for this chapter to make it more acceptable for admin regulation standards. If you want to view and read the full, unedited version please visit the author's profile page.**

**Chapter 5 - Temptation**

The smell of freshly baked brownies filled the room. Natsuki smiled faintly as he took the square pan out from the oven and set it on top of the marble kitchen counter to let it cool.

He may be a sloppy homeowner, leaving his things messy and his mountain of laundry piled high for weeks, but when it comes to baking, he inherited his ability to follow a good recipe from his deceased mother. Setsuna Shinomiya was a good cook, but her passion lies in baking. There was never a time in their house where they would run out of bread and pastries. She always baked fresh bread every morning before school. And he would come home to the smell of just baked pastries coming out from the oven. Those days of doing his homework while nibbling her delectable pastries probably help in the sharpening of his senses and keen observation. And when she died, it was as if part of himself died too.

The smell of gooey chocolate and oven-roasted walnuts permeated the air around him, as the house he was living in, gave off a homey feel. He checked his watch anxiously and saw that it was almost three in the afternoon. Haruka would be coming over in fifteen minutes; enough time for him to cut the brownies in squares, ready and waiting for her with a glass of milk, before she would climb over the trellis like she usually does.

He began pacing around his room, deep in thought. He spied the stack of canvases lying near the foyer, waiting for Ryuuya to pick it up. More than halfway around his list of works to finish, he estimated that he only have a few more weeks and he can complete his works.

He wanted to bang his head on the table for being such a careless bastard for losing control and taking advantage of her. Haruka is in the middle of hormonal changes and puberty. Her curiosity is both intriguing and annoying. Part of him wanted to give in to her request, while another part of him rebels against the insanity of what he is getting himself into. The sight of her handing him that damned red apple tormented him for few nights after. He would wake up with soak sheets. The last time he had wet dreams was before he went into college.

_God, Natsuki, _he scolded himself. He should just discourage her right then and there. But he couldn't bring himself to. He wanted her so badly he can barely eat and sleep, day and night. And she was waiting for him to make a move.

And her frequent visits stoke the fire. He didn't mind having her almost everyday. Their agreement was mostly kept to twice or thrice a week. And for the rest of the days she visited, he tried to keep himself busy, studying her from his workplace while she tinkered around in his room sharpening his pencils, or stacking his drawing sheets in a neat pile or even washing his brushes when she's done with her school work. But mostly, she would just bring her books and lounge around in his daybed, doing her homework and reports like she was just back in her own room.

He just has to admire her dedication when it comes to her studies. She ignored him for most part while she concentrated on her home works, while he could not help but be fascinated by her demeanor as her eyes narrowed and she bites her lower lip when she zones in to the passages she needed to understand. The image of her lying on her stomach, elbows propped up, while her ankles idly swish about in the air, the navy blue socks contrasting against her beautiful skin. He had half a mind to just march up and peel her clothes off one by one.

Natsuki sometimes wonders whether this lull in their activities is just the calm before the storm. He looks down at the neat squares of brownies he had just finished cutting and popped a small piece in his mouth, savoring the chocolate goodness.

For a few minutes he stared into space, blanked out by images he wanted to capture in his canvas when a sudden loud pelting broke the silence in the room. The smell of wet leaves and dirt floated from his open windows as a steady, heavy downpour flashed before him.

For a few minutes he stood mesmerized by the sheet of water pouring out from the sky outside the window. Then he sighed. With this kind of weather, Haruka will not come after all. He would just pack the baked goods in a seal tight container and keep it for her the next day when she gets hungry.

He turned his back from the window and began bustling around the kitchen, placing the mixing bowls, wire whisk, spatula and measuring cups and spoons he had used into the sink where he has readied warm, soapy water for washing. Letting the utensils soak for a few minutes, he turned around and wiped the counter clean with a wet sponge and tea towel to dry the wetted areas. After which, he went back to the sink and began to wash the items thoroughly and stacking them carefully inside a drying rack propped next to the sink.

Behind him, rain continued to pour, the thunder rumbling louder in a distance. He wondered briefly whether his roses can survive the downpour and he made a mental note to tell Ryuuya to see about his regular gardener to maintain the area around his property. Sooner or later, Haruka will have to use the door the next time she visits. The duplicate key of his house is ready and waiting just for her. But for the meantime, its best to check the trellis' stability and the climbing roses trimmed in order not to scar that delicate porcelain skin of hers. After all these weeks of climbing up and down the trellis, it's a miracle she doesn't even scratched herself.

He heard a _sploosh _sound behind him and he turned just as soon as he placed the last of the washed items on the dish rack. Did the rain get inside his room?

"Natsuki? Do you have extra towels?"

His eyes widened, taking into her wet appearance. Haruka's school uniform was drenched through and through. And the small puddle she made on the floor beside the window where she climbed, continued to grow bigger as the water dripped from the wet clothes she was wearing.

"Are you an idiot?" he rushed towards her, grabbing the towel he had tossed carelessly earlier from one of the bar stools in front of him. Unfurling the towel, he draped it around the trembling girl's shoulders, her hands still clutching the bag and upturned umbrella that was destroyed completely by the wind outside.

"M-my things." She chattered through her teeth, and she handed her school bag to him, as she pulled the fluffy towel closer to her slender frame.

"Forget about your things," he scolded her, kneeling down to untie the remove the wet, black leather shoes, and began to pull her socks down. "You're bag looks waterproofed. But if your papers got wet, I can dry them out on the kitchen counter."

She nodded without a word.

He continued to fuss on her, letting her stand still as she tried to get her bearings through the chattering of her teeth. He quickly kneeled down to unclasped her black mary jane shoes, eased each of her slender foot out of the soaked leather and tossing them inside one of the plastic containers he took out from under the kitchen counters.

She continued to shiver, not saying a word.

A hot shower, and some soup would do nice to bring back some color in her, were the things that ran through his mind. Pulling her hand with his, he led her inside the house, through the darkened hallway, until they reached the end, where his room was. He half pushed, half-dragged her inside his own Master bedroom, flicking on the lights overhead, and opening the adjoining room where his private bath is.

"You need a hot shower to warm you up." he told her in a practical tone, almost shoving her in the room. Closing the door behind him, he rushed to his closet, rummaging around for some clothes she can wear.

After some time, he found a nice pair of shorts that seemed too small for him, but looked like the right size for her. A white shirt with the words _Black Sabbath_ printed across it would fit her slender finger. The _Black Sabbath shirt _was a relic of his high school days when he was all skinny and bony. He realized just now how much he had grown, and how much flesh he had acquired. He's still lean and slender as a reed, but his muscles are toned with no traces of flab on it.

He stood up, clothes bundled in his arms and headed straight into the bath, calling out to her.

"Haruka? You can use my soap and shampoo to clean up, alright? They won't be harsh on your skin. And I have prepared some clothes for you." He absent-mindedly gave a gentle kick on the door. Strolling inside, he wasn't paying much attention that the girl was probably busy with stripping her clothes of, until he realized it too late. The slender figure in front of him stood up straight, his eyes automatically trained to it. His tired eyelids snapped wide open, jaw lowering, and whatever he wanted to say died in his throat.

Behind him, the door closed with a gentle _thud._

**oOoOoOoOo**

She stood with her back facing him. Her clothes lay in a heavy, wet puddle on the marble floor. Her usual reddish gold hair lay limp and dripping behind her back, the color of the strands turned into a burnish gold color. She continued to shiver slightly, goosebumps forming on her exposed skin.

Haruka was wearing nothing but a pair of white cotton panties, clinging to her shapely hips, the outline of her rear almost visible to his eyes, as he slowly studied the image before him.

"S-sorry." He stuttered, stumbling back, and he felt his bare foot step on a puddle of water. He slipped, causing him to land hard on his own butt.

_Owwww. That fucking hurts. _He wanted to rub his backside to relieve some of the pain, but the pounding of his heart drew more attention. He was more aware of the instant reaction of his body caused about by her semi-naked state.

With nary an emotion painted on her face, Haruka slowly, carefully pivoted on her heel, until the front of her body came into full view.

Despite being in the middle of her puberty, where a girl's body shape is still being defined by nature, Haruka's lithe figure seemed to fill in all the proper places.

The girl standing before him may be technically fourteen, but her body is maturing in an advance stage. It seemed indecent to describe it but he can only put one word to summarize what he is seeing before him: _nubile. _

At first glance, others might attribute her slenderness as still being a kid, but it surprised him that underneath all that uniform was an almost-fully developed body.

Those legs; the tiny waist; the smooth flat stomach; but what made his eyeballs pop out was her full breasts.

Cool as a cucumber, Haruka was using her right arm to cover them as much as possible. He cannot see what the tips of her breast look like, nor even make a guess what colors they are. _Pink, dusky, strawberry, and peach? _It was all running quickly through his mind as fast as a blink of an eye. Whatever the shade is, it was bound to be a perfect contrast against her porcelain skin.

Her breasts were unexpectedly large, and slightly more out of proportion against her slender frame. He's not a breast person type of guy when it comes to physical attraction. Most of the women he took to bed possess a healthy variety of attractive physical attributes. But the shape and size of her breasts blew him away.

_It would fit perfectly in his hands, _he thought to himself, taking a swallow, painfully aware of his hard erection straining against his khaki pants. He felt himself go red with embarrassment. Fuck.

She loomed above him, her face still devoid of expression. She was no longer shivering violently, but the tiny hairs covering her bare shoulders and upper arms stood rigid, aware of the sexual tension each of them is emitting.

As she moved closer he could see a flash of gleaming white teeth, the moisture on her lower lip; the faint flush dusting her cheeks. The tiny details about her were everything he wanted to touch, to smell and to see. Feeling the sudden itch in his hands to paint her again, he can only clench and unclench his lower nether regions to control the raging desire pouring out of him. He wanted to immortalize that sweet young body of hers in a clean, pristine canvas. And he wanted to ravage her afterwards.

"Natsuki." She whispered, lowering herself against him.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**A/N: Uta Pri season 2 is almost over. I hope they would put out Season 3 (cross your fingers), or at least can they do English-translated versions of the game? I freakin' wanted to play them! **

**Do check out my other works. The Uta Pri universe is expanding, and a lot of yummy-looking boy bands in their make me pant for more. Which means, my other irregular one-shots is not enough to accommodate just the Starish group. I have full intention to include Quartet Night and Heavens in future works. **

**One more thing, for some insanely hot, insanely good lemon-****limey goodness Shinomiya-style lovin' check out my complete two-shot "Two Bows One Cello". If you can't get enough of the Shinomiya twins that I created from Underage Love, I took the liberty of creating a hot (and I mean HOT) and steamy scenes designed to make you reach for the cold drinks to cool you off.**

**Enjoy, and please do drop a review (makes me want to create more of them if I get more reviews. –evil laughs-).**

**Don't forget to drop a review here too!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: My muse loves Natsuki. I mean, I wrote two chapters for Porcelain this week. I was unable to finish revising Chapter 7, so I decided to upload Chapter 6 first and take my time revising the other chapter.**

**Thank you for the support you've been giving me for my Uta-Pri works. I hope you will spread the love for this anime so that other people can enjoy what we have enjoyed. It saddens me a bit that once the hype over the latest anime dies down, people tend to move on to others.. :(**

**Hope you enjoy this latest chapter. And if I am not able to reply to your reviews immediately, please forgive me. I might be busy with work or trying to update my other fics.**

**Warning: some lime, some OOCness, err some form of violence….**

**Grammar mistakes? Let me know. Post a review**

**Chapter 6 – Obsession**

Sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, Natsuki is barely aware of the water seeping through the loose khaki pants he wore.

Graceful as a doe, Haruka sidestepped his sprawled legs, and it only took him a moment to think clearly, as she loomed before him, shadows hiding the delicious secret crevices on her body that made his hands want to explore and uncover.

His eyes fluttered, nostrils flaring as he took in her scent, combined with the smell of fresh rain still dripping down from her wet hair.

"Natsuki." She whispered, lowering herself against him.

Her molten gold eyes met his forest green ones. How many times has he counted the number of hairs she has in her eyelashes? Her pale, pale skin seemed to glow, and he could see the faint goose bumps on her upper arms and shoulders. She seemed to quiver slightly, and he isn't sure whether it is from the numbing cold of getting wet from the rain, or a reaction from the sexual tension they are both emitting.

He swallowed, his eyes trailing down her slender neck, the hollow beneath her collarbone, the upper swell of her breasts, slightly covered by her slender arm.

He felt her settle on top of him, straddling him so intimately, her feminine mound completely resting on top of his hardened member. He almost groaned loudly with pleasure with the knowledge that there is only a few layers of clothing between them.

Natsuki bit his cheek to keep himself from grabbing her, and hauling her roughly to be tossed into his bed and spanked the way she deserves to be spanked. God knows how long his control will last. A slightly less naked young girl sitting on top of him is a disaster waiting to happen. A disaster he is willing to risk as the seconds tick by.

'Ha-haruka," he almost growled, keeping the overwhelming lust in his voice at bay. "You'd better take that hot shower or you might get a cold."

She did not reply, yet continued to stare at his face, as if intent to discover something incredible. His heart pounding like crazy. He resisted the urge to cup her shapely bottom. His hands literally itched to touch her and draw her at the same time.

"Natsuki," she finally said, in a low voice that seemed oh so seductive in his ears. "I want you to teach me."

He took another swallow again as soon as she uttered her request. How very easy it is to give in to her plea. Does she even know the consequences of what she was asking from him? He exhaled slowly, taking in more of her intoxicatingly provocative scent, his pulse jumping, competing with his racing heart.

He did not answer. He could not answer. How can he say both no and yes to her? If he say no, who knows what she might do? She might become aggressive just to pursue what she wants. He can feel it in his veins on how passionate the girl is when her mind is occupied by something she desperately wants to achieve. Telling her no would even make her more determined.

If he says yes, what would be the consequences?

Plenty.

He could go to jail for starters. Taking advantage of a young girl like her. He might end up hurting her physically and emotionally. Haruka is not prepared for something like this. If he gives in to his craving for her, he would definitely not be satiated by a one time occurrence.

Natsuki closed his eyes, taking his time to decide on what to do.

**oOoOoOoOo**

With a deep sigh, he reluctantly placed his hands on her waist. His burning skin is a sharp contrast against her cold, shivering skin. He hauled her up, standing awkwardly at the same time. He towered over her, and yet she is tall for age. Her head almost reaching up to his shoulders.

"Take your shower, Haruka. Stay under it for 30 minutes minimum. You might get a flu."

He avoided looking into her eyes, but he knew she is probably thinking deep thoughts about their complicated and strange relationship. Letting his fingers slide down to her hip, he took a swallow, trying to dampen the overwhelming arousal she elicited from him. How badly he wanted to mark her body with lovebites.

He gritted his teeth with his resolve and backed out of the bathroom, locking it securely as soon as he made it out. Once outside, he paused, leaned against the door heavily, listening. It was only when he heard the tap mixers turning with a faint squeak did he let out another shaky breath.

He made his way towards his open studio, where another of his canvases was propped up. Her intense, molten gold eyes stared back at him, the warm shadows adding dimension to her beautiful face. The specks of green in her irises hinted a playful nature behind her serious façade.

Natsuki took the canvas off its stand and tossed it carelessly to one part of the room. The dull thudding it made as it crashed against the wall jarred him back to reality.

Grabbing another unfinished canvas, this time with just the outline of her face sketched in charcoal, he secured it on the stand and took a step back to study it briefly, his mind's eye already envisioning what he wanted to paint. He can complete this canvas now, thanks to her unexpected and provocative request. He took a clean palette and began squeezing out colors into it: vermillion, celadon, chinese red, burnt hematite…

Vigorously mixing the array of colors, he quickly changed brushes rapidly, a gamut of images running through his mind: her shapely hips, the unbelievable tiny waist, the raindrops clinging in her eyelashes, the glow of her porcelain skin, her Cupid's bow mouth, pink and glistening. His fingers running on her bare skin, feeling her goose bumps and the fine hairs standing in reaction.

Loading different thickness of brushes with the mixed oil paints, he splattered it on the pristine canvas with a violent vermillion color. He dabbed, feathered and slashed his way across the canvas like a possessed man driven to work. He worked furiously, rapidly; canvas after canvas, he spread them out all over the room. He only has a few available stands propped up in front of him, but he would not be deterred. He will never be deterred. As images crowded through his minds, his hands barely kept up with his painting frenzy.

He was briefly distracted by the smell of apple and lavender; or the sounds of rain picking up its strength. His studio room was cold, and then warm, and he barely acknowledged that someone had closed the windows and had closed the curtains shut.

His hunger pangs only made him work faster, and he did not stop for a bite to eat. He scattered his canvases about in the room, haphazardly laying newspapers to cover the clean surfaces, and laying the canvases down, getting down on his knees; uncaring whether he stained his clothes and continuing to paint his way to oblivion.

Trapped in his world of nothing but his work, his lust for Haruka, that by the time he had finished, he found himself falling into the confusing abyss of his mind palace.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

When he finally blinked his eyes open, it was late morning. The storm had ended. The chirping of the birds outside and the faint dripping noise of the kitchen taps broke the silence in his room.

He stretched a bit, feeling the kinks and ache on his neck and shoulders after falling asleep, while sitting against the side of his daybed. Natsuki surveyed the damage he had caused in his studio and briefly thought that Ryuuya would throw a fit when he sees that his normally clean walls and curtains did not escape the havoc he had caused. He took a swallow, the saliva failing to ease the dryness of his parched throat. The small, individual canvases spread about would be massive in size when assembled together, and he felt drunk with satisfaction. He knew this special set of pieces is one of the turning points on his show.

Slightly dizzy with the stirrings of hunger, he suddenly realized that Haruka is nowhere in the room. He could not recall her getting out from the shower.

Panicking, he scrambled towards his bedroom. His brain barely acknowledge its unusual tidiness: the folded bedsheets, the clean set of clothes ready for him to use when he take his shower, the books stacked up neatly on top of the dresser. He knocked on the bathroom, half expecting her to emerge from it. But when he opened and found it empty and dry, did he only remember that the events happened yesterday.

A full day has passed without him realizing it. His concentration was so great, that he completely ignored her presence the whole time he was in a painting frenzy.

Natsuki ran a hand through his slightly greasy, untidy hair. He had failed her. He is such an increasingly unstable guy that he will be forever shackled with his work, his passion, and his art. His obsession to her was so great, it induces him to show his true nature: a savage painter with no remorse when it comes to his calling.

His eyes took in the surroundings of his room, trying to ignore the painful beating of his heart. He wanted so much to give in to her request; show her the extent of his hunger for her. But he is afraid that after he gives in, he will not have the time and patience to acclimatized her with his beastly nature. Be damned with the consequences of being labeled as a molester, a pervert. He would probably, savagely make love to her like a victim of famine devouring a feast set for him. And when he is finally satiated, he won't be there to give her the after bliss she deserves. He would be transformed again, a slave to his art, unleashing his fury in front of the dead canvases, a sorcerer bringing life to the blank, stretchy white fabric.

Her forgotten, damp clothes lay on the floor before him, before his eyes registered it was hers. The pungent smell of rain mixed with lavender was filling his nostrils again, making his hands ache to touch paper and grasp a charcoal.

Without a word, he found himself kneeling before her clothes, rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for.

Undoing the fly of his pants, his tired hands found its way inside the waistband of his briefs. The cotton panties she wore yesterday smelled intensely like Haruka, and he was filled with images of her naked flesh, as he stroked himself, making him harder, filling himself to the brim.

God, dear Haruka. How will he be able to cope once he has finish his series of works? The more he immerses himself into her world, the more he will have trouble getting out of the hole. Soon, it will not be enough to just touch her, smell her, and stroke her. Soon, he won't be able to go on without having a taste of her, consuming her whole.

He had found his muse but the cost is heavy to pay.

"Haruka…" Natsuki groaned loudly, his hands giving himself a final tug. Using the panties she wore yesterday, he let his seed spill onto the damp cotton, the strong scent mingling with her feminine scent.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

He wanted to bang his head on the counter…

The clock made its annoying second _tick _again.

Scratch that. He doesn't want to bang his head on his precious, granite top kitchen counter.

He can stick his head inside the oven and gas himself out.

The idea of roasting his head in the oven made him ill..

"Will you stop making that annoying face? It's giving me the creeps." His friend, Ryuuya said, lighting up another one of his deathsticks. The smell of burning tobacco filled his room.

"Shut it." He growled, trying to concentrate on his thinking.

"You know," Ryuuya inhaled an insane amount of tobacco smoke, took his time savoring the minty, smoky flavor before exhaling it out in circle patterns. The smoke rings above his head went from small to hazy large rings before disappearing completely, though the acrid burn still lingered in the room. "I can check around discreetly if you want to know how she is doing."

"What, you're a neighborhood watch now?" Natsuki said irritably. Sometimes, having a bestfriend who knows him too much is both a boon and a bane. Most of the time, it's a bane.

Ryuuya chuckled, then snorted. "Of course not, you idiot! I made friends in the neighborhood while you are holed up most of the time here. So I can keep an eye on you even though I am busy with my _other endeavors_." He wiggled his eyebrows to emphasize the naughty nature of what he does in his free time.

Natsuki rolled his eyes in exasperation. Ryuuya will chase anything that wears a skirt.

"Who knows what you'll blow up next?" his friend continued, inhaling the smoke again from his cigarette stick. The last place you live took some time to clean up the hazardous waste you left behind when you were experimenting with your paints. Ryuuya shuddered in remembrance.

"Anyway, just tell me when and maybe I can sneak in some repair guy inside to take a look on how she is." His friend sometimes imagines he is a covert agent or something, with the way he always suggest absurd solutions to simple problems.

"I don't even know where she lives!" Natsuki finally blurted out. He stood up, snatched the plastic container of leftover brownies and began munching it hungrily; just to appease the growing apprehension he is feeling.

It's been two days since she last graced his studio. He tried to ignore the lost feeling yesterday when he woke up after his painting frenzy. He felt really shitty when he masturbated while holding her underwear, that as soon as he finished unloading his frustrations, he threw her clothes in the seldom-used washing machine together with his soiled clothes. Her clothes lay inside the plastic bag, waiting for her to come and retrieve it. He tried to fold it as neatly as he could, but he only managed just tucking it in such a way that it will produce less wrinkles.

Ryuuya shook his head. "You are amazingly stupid sometimes. For a guy who is having an unhealthy, stalker-like crush on a highschool girl, you didn't even bother to check where she lives. No wonder your relationships are always doomed from the start."

"I was too preoccupied with my works so that I can save our asses from our commitment in the gallery, you annoying asshole." Natsuki shot back, wanting to give his friend a kick in the shin.

His friend snorted. He finished his stick, gathered the carefully protected canvases waiting near him. "Well, good luck to you. I'm off to bring these fresh batches to the gallery's design team so that they can make the necessary space to arrange this beauty." His happy smile is proof enough that he liked the latest works he had produced.

"Thank god, you are leaving. You are no help to me." Natsuki answered acidly. "Don't forget about my delivery supplies. I'm running low on clay and my special oil paints. And I need replacement for those brushes." He gestured to the table where a bundle of used brushes he had damaged were lying like human corpses waiting to be buried.

"Fine, fine. No help at all. Tsk." Ryuuya hauled his prized works away. "Your delivery will come later. I told them to just leave it at one corner of the garage if you fail to hear their doorbell."

Natsuki nodded, plopped into the sofa space his friend vacated, his mind already back to worrying about Haruka and how he can convince her to come back and sit for him at least until he finish his remaining works.

"By the way, in case you are interested to hear. She lives just two doors down to your right side of the house. Her grandmother's house sports the informal English-style garden in the front. If you see the purple wisteria blooms, you've got the right house." And with that, Ryuuya left, shutting the door behind him.

It took him quite some time before his friend's information registered. And when it finally did, Natsuki quickly jumped up, rushed to his room to grab a small backpack, stuffed Haruka's clothes in, along with a pack of her favorite chocolate chip cookies as a peace offering and headed out.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**A/N: Natsuki's talent in painting is really something. I;ve watched movies where artists like him become so possessed with images they wanted to capture in their work, and I've tried to portray them as best I could. He can be totally immersed with his works sometime, so I suddenly got the idea that Haruka should see how he works when he is in his full work mode. All those sittings she made are just quieter versions of Natsuki at work, so its time for her to see full-blown Natsuki. It's sometimes unhealthy, when you see someone you like working like that. Something you want to capture and keep it to yourself. I want Haruka to know how it feels to hold a beast like Natsuki: beautiful, untamable. At least she would know what she is getting herself into.**

**I have updated Cecil's Muse last week, so I hope you will check it out and leave a review. I still have a couple more weeks to update Underage Love, Where the Wild Roses Go and There's Always room for dessert. So I hope you take the time to review them. **** Once again. Thank you.**

**Reviews=love**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: One of the most difficult and longest chapters I have ever written yet. Hmmm.. My muse has been rooting for Natsuki lately. **

**Warning: Some swearing, some OOCness and lemon..err..lime.**

**Grammar mistakes? Let me know, post a review.**

**Oct. 13, 2013 updates: This story contains some light lime/lemon and has been edited out as part of admin regulations. To view the complete version of the chapter please visit the author's profile page for more information.**

**Chapter 7 – Intimacy**

Ryuuya was accurate on his descriptions. Haruka's house was indeed two doors from his own. The surrounding gardens made the property look bigger from the outside; the white, picket fences looked freshly painted and the grass were well-kept and trimmed regularly. A normal household won't be able to accomplish such gardening works, Natsuki noted, as he surveyed the area inside from the sidewalk where he stood. The shrubs and flower gardens are done by professional gardeners. The wisteria tucked into one corner made a nice frame to the two-storey Victorian styled house where she lived. Its branches was heavy with its weeping purple blossoms. Below its base was a worn-out wooden bench surrounded by pots of lavender.

Natsuki gave a quirky grin to himself. No wonder she always smell like the aromatic herb. He can just imagine her spending a few hours everyday underneath the wisteria's heavy canopy, immersing herself with its scent as she enjoyed the outdoors that she loved so much.

Feeling like an intruder, Natsuki glanced up and down the street, checking to see if it is empty. The afternoon heat kept the people indoors, and he appreciated that he is alone in the street. He tried to keep his appearance looking as neat as possible, smoothing out his flyaway hair, but he might still look dodgy to anyone who cared enough to take a second look.

He walked nearer to the fence and continued to study the place. The house looked empty, but he could hear the faint whirr of a vacuum somewhere inside the house. Someone is home, and he hopes he can locate her within the house without disturbing anyone. Since it's a lazy Saturday afternoon, she probably won't go out yet until the temperatures had cooled a bit. The neighborhood brats she always plays with usually come out late in the afternoon for a game of softball.

He could come up the main door and press the doorbell to save himself the embarrassment of being found out if his plans to sneak in fail. He can just imagine it, pressing the doorbell, a grin plastered on his face.

_Hi, I'm the guy whom your granddaughter spends most of her time with in the afternoon. _

He shook his head. With his greasy, dirty outfit that makes him look like a homeless man or a drug user, he would be lucky if the grandmother didn't call for the police. He'd probably be arrested before he can finish saying world-class painter.

Natsuki groaned. _Oh, the trials and tortures of obsessing over a fourteen year old kid! _

He steeled himself; so that he won't loose whatever nerve he has left and took a jump over the fence, sleek as a cat. Quickly, he sneaked at the side, creeping along as he hugged the external wall of the house, trying to make as less noise as possible. The crunch of the gravel underneath his sneakers sound like gunshots in his ears. Heart pounding, he inched his way, stopping until he saw a ladder propped up against one part of the wall. It stops directly under an open window in the second level, whose pale yellow curtains was billowing out in the faint breeze. Just next to him, is another open window where he could hear the sounds of the vacuum cleaner getting louder and louder.

He took a careful peek; saw an old woman cleaning the carpets, wearing an old-fashioned, starchy white apron. She was humming softly with the Frank Sinatra music coming out from the a radio somewhere. _Her grandmother?_

Glad that she looks preoccupied at least with her cleaning, Natsuki continued moving forward, his nose encountering the scent of lavender and vanilla.

Stopping just before the propped up ladder, he glanced up again and realized it was her room directly above him. Who else but Haruka who always loved to climb up and down the trellis in his home? Naturally, to avoid unnecessary questions from her grandmother, she would probably use it for ease of access to her room when she went out to visit him or her friends. The ladder looked as if it was allowed to stay there for some time. Already, some vines had started creeping up to its side supports.

Natsuki took a deep breath, took hold of the side and began to climb.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The ladder doesn't seem to be stable, he found out as soon as he was halfway in his progress above. The support is too flimsy for his liking and he shuddered at the thought that if the ladder gives way, how the hell is he supposed to explain what he was doing in somebody else's property in the middle of the afternoon? He gave a tiny groan, wanting to punch himself for being such a first class idiot. He could have waited for her for a few more days right?

_Wrong, _the voice inside his head taunted. _You're obsessed with her, and you couldn't let it go if she really is pissed off at you for being such a jerk and a pervert to boot._

He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself not to look down. Technically, he is not afraid of heights, but seeing as he unthinkingly climbed up a dingy ladder that could split into two anytime, he might develop a phobia from high places.

He took another step up, realized that he is almost nearing the window sill. The ladder squeaked and groaned in protest, unused to his much heavier weight than its regular user. Another step and he can peer into the window opening properly.

Natsuki took the final step up and stuck his head inside the window.

"Gyahh!"

"Ahhhh! He yelled, and before he can continue, he was hauled roughly through the window, and he toppled forward in a terrific crash.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Thin arms wrapped around his face and neck, when he opened his eyes, and focused on the painted ceiling above him. He blinked, trying to get his bearings and saw Haruka's golden eyes peering down at him, hair falling all over his face.

"Haruka!" he said in an outraged tone. "You scared me-!" and he found himself muffled by her thin, slender hand clamping on his mouth to silence him.

"Shhhh! Not too loud!" she snapped.

The vacuuming noise below stopped.

"Haruka?" the old lady asked in a loud voice. "Are you awake, my dear?"

"Y-yes, Mrs. Preston! I just stumbled onto something." Haruka yelled back.

"Shouldn't you be taking a bit more rest?" Mrs. Preston's grew distinctively louder.

"I've gotten plenty of rest. And I thought I should read a bit." She answered in a loud voice. Natsuki cringe.

"Alright, dear. Listen.." the sound of footsteps can now be heard as the old woman made her way upstairs.

Realizing that the woman might pop into her room, Natsuki scrambled to get up, bumped his head into Haruka's, who, he now noticed was wearing her light blue pajamas. His expression puzzled, he whispered, "Why are you still wearing your pajamas?"

"Later!" she hissed, pushing him away towards another door. Quickly opening it, he found it was her closet, clothes stuffed inside in a riot of colors and materials. He was about to protest that he probably won't fit into the tiny space, when he felt her hands on his back, shoving him roughly inside before slamming the door shut.

Natsuki stumbled back, cursing beneath his breath. He hit his hip on the corner of a drawer and he bit back the curse he was about to utter. Fuck, fuck, fuck! _That hurts!_

The light streaming through the louvered slats of her closet door, is barely enough for him to focus on where is stepping on. Any sort of noise he makes seemed magnified ten times. He wished he could have just shut up when he saw her.

The door to her room swung open, and he could hear the old woman's voice loud and clear.

"Why are you up? Are you feeling alright now? Should I bring up some soup for you?"

"That's ok, Mrs. Preston. I will get dressed later and eat it downstairs. Don't worry." Haruka answered out of breath.

"Hmm. You still look a bit red, your temperature still hasn't come down. Have you taken your medicine yet?" Mrs. Preston asked, checking her temperature by covering her forehead with her old, gnarly hands. Natsuki can see Mrs. Preston's white hair, tied up in a bun, as she stepped into the room. He swallowed, feeling tense. Visions of jail flashed through his mind. He wonders briefly whether Ryuuya can bail him out if the old woman finds him hiding inside the closet. He tried to slow down his breathing. Mrs. Preston could probably hear the _thumb thumping_ of his racing heart. Shit. _Dear God, I will personally sacrifice a goat for you if I manage to get out from this unscathed. _

"You know what, Mrs. Preston. I've been craving for some of your beef stew. Can you make it for me later before Grandma comes home?" Haruka said, took a step back and sat at the edge of her bed, looking nonchalant.

"Beef stew? Hmm, yes. I could put in lots of vegetables. You need more vitamins. Why not? Let me pop into the grocery and I will be back soon." Mrs. Preston began to mentally prepare a list of ingredients. "We're all out of carrots and potatoes.." and she turned and left Haruka, closing the door gently behind her.

Natsuki waited, closed his eyes, and counted to ten. When he reached ten. He extended his arm and opened the closet door slightly.

"You should have just waited for me to show up, you know." Haruka was already standing in front of him, as she opened the door fully to let him out. "I can't have you getting the same flu. You need to finish your work."

She frowned at him.

"I was worried." He answered simply, taking in her appearance. Haruka looked like she still needs to stay in bed. There are faint purple shadows underneath her eyes, though her cheeks are redder, a sign of high temperature. He cupped her face with his free hand, feeling the burning skin. Then he drew her face up, as he leaned down, letting their foreheads touch. He felt so relieved that she's not angry with him. It was the flu that kept her indoors for the last two days.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to take care of you that day." He apologized sheepishly. He slid the backpack off his shoulder and took out the pack of clothes he had just washed. "Here, thought you might miss your extra set of uniforms."

Haruka took the packed clothes and tossed it to one side. "You shouldn't have bothered so much. Mrs. Preston didn't notice I wasn't wearing my uniform when I came home the other day. She just assumed I already changed my school uniform and was out playing with the neighborhood kids when I was caught in the thunderstorm." She was looking at him with a stern expression, but her features softened slightly when she saw the package of chocolate chip cookies she always love still inside the plastic bag. "Thanks for this though. I wanted to sneak some cookies downstairs when I heard the noise you made. I initially thought some large bird landed near my window."

Natsuki made an embarrassed noise before giving her a gentle scolding. "I hope to God, you change that ladder outside at least if you intent to use the window again to sneak in and out of your room. That thing is going to break your neck one day." He ruffled her hair affectionately, before he took a step back to study her.

Haruka, wearing her pajamas and her hair disheveled after spending so much time resting and sleeping is a different breath of fresh air for him. She looked so comfortable and content in her own private space that he wished he could have stuck a small drawing pad and pencil into his backpack and draw. He clenched his jaw, trying to stifle the urge. He can go back to how work now that he has seen for himself that she is not really angry at him like what he initially thought in the first place.

She noticed his tensed expression and said, "If you are having that overwhelming urge to draw, feel free to use my drawing pad and pencils. You can stay for a bit. Mrs. Preston won't be back in a couple of hours." She placed the package of cookies on top of her dresser.

He gaped at her, surprised at her assessment. "No," he protested sheepishly, face turning red that she caught his mood shift so easily. "You should be resting. I can go now." he turned, ready to climb down the window, when her hand slipped into his. They seemed to fit in his hand perfectly, that he felt his heart began its loud rhythmic thumping again.

"Stay." She whispered. "I missed you."

He can't say no to her. She looked so heartbreakingly beautiful right now, it's so hard to deny her anything. God, it was so easy to be putty in her hands.

Kicking off his sneakers, he took the art supplies from the drawer she pointed out to him, and he followed her as she settled into the bed. Natsuki pump her pillows up and gathered the blankets to her chin, before settling down on the carpeted floor beside her bed and began to sketch her while she took one of the books lying on her bedside table.

The silence in her room is comfortable and it help soothe his worried and restless soul. Her art materials, though inferior to the ones he normally used proved useful, and he happily sketched away. The soft, vulnerable look she is sporting now melted his heart. Had she known this and asked him to teach her again about sex and lovemaking in general, he probably would say yes to her too. That's how content his mood is right now.

His fingers smudged shadows on her face, loving the vibration of excitement at the thought of doing another painting of her in an entirely different medium. Would he be able to do justice to her face with egg tempera and wood?

After some time and several pages later, he looked up and saw her nodding off in sleep. He smiled gently, stopped what he was doing and sat beside her on the bed, watching her sleep.

How can be someone still young has such a devastating effect on his sanity? Haruka looked so beautiful he doesn't know what to do. She only needs to smile at him, or stare with those deep golden eyes of hers, and she can get him to agree to anything. Well, almost anything that is.

He reached down, tucked one of the stray hairs falling on her forehead. She stirred, opening her eyes and blinking a couple of times before she registered where she is. "Natsuki?"

Without warning, he leaned towards her, and he kissed her softly on the lips. They felt incredibly warm against his own that despite his resolve not to touch her; he could feel himself growing hard as he tested her softness.

And it certainly did not help when her hands ran through his hair, pulling him deeper into her bedsheets with her.

"Haruka." He groaned against her lips.

**oOoOoOoOo**

She responded by opening her mouth and letting her tongue touch his lips, flitting and tasting him tentatively.

He was instantly on fire.

Stretching himself out fully on her bed, he laid on top of her, carefully so as not to crush her too much with his weight. He tried not to rub himself against her too hard, but the urge to do so overwhelmed him. Instead, he concentrated on helping her with her clumsy kisses. He let his tongue in her mouth, meeting her own, probing the inside of her sweet lips. He could feel her teeth, sharp and perfectly aligned. She yielded so easily against his invading mouth that he wanted to weep in a mixture of despair and joy.

Her small teeth grazed his mouth, and he growled softly, retaliating by nipping her lower lip back.

She gasp, before she pulled away from him. Her eyes were big and sparkling with wonder. Her lips looked thoroughly swollen and ravished; the color of red, cherry flavored candy.

"Haruka." He began, but his words were smothered when she initiated another kiss again. Deeper this time, hotter. It increased the fire inside him, stoking him, filling him with longing for something forbidden which he is not supposed to have. "We shouldn't-"

"No!" she whispered vehemently, interrupting him. "Let me have it. Give me a taste! Please, I'm begging you." Her hands clutched at him, running up and down his chest, feeling all the hard planes of his muscles.

His body reacted instinctively, making him even harder than he is now. Even his own nipples protruded. Goose bumps began to form on his upper arms.

Natsuki groaned in pleasure. Unable to resist any longer, his fingers travelled down to the buttons of her pajama top, deftly picking the tiny material apart. The buttons easily gave way with his persistence.

**oOoOoOoOosmutoOoOoOoOo**

With blazing eyes, he watched her open her mouth and snapped it shut at once. The mewling sounds she generated grew louder and louder. She attempted to control the noises she made by constantly biting her lower lip. But judging from her pleasure and excitement, she was having a hard time doing so.

He extended one of his hands and covered her mouth with it, silencing her lest anyone hears them further. Mrs. Preston will be back anytime, soon.

"Shhh, my little minx." His deep voice, a rumbling music from within him.

Holding her naked breast with his hands is doing wonders with his mind's eye, bursts of colors threatening to overload his senses. He could feel the blood vessels underneath her skin vibrating with life, calling out to him, begging him to continue his exploration of her. Both his fingers and his cock twitched in response to her siren's call.

Unable to stop himself, he found his fingers slipping the thin garters of her pajama bottoms down as he continued to suckle.

Down it went, past her hips, down to her thighs, taking her panties with it; pulling it down in one flourish as if peeling a piece of ripe fruit he had been salivating for weeks to eat.

His nostrils flared, taking in her heady female scent. And his eyes looked down in worship. The part where her white skin never see the light of day all bared before him: a feast for his senses.

**oOoOoOoOosmutoOoOoOoOo**

Natsuki swallowed. Taking a deep breath, he let his visions of her wash over him. A virgin. All his for the taking.

He steeled his jaw as he watched her writhe on top of her bed, her moans becoming longer. They sound like music to his ears. The heavy-lidded eyes concealing the darkness of desire colored her irises in a way he wanted to capture on canvas. The flush on her cheeks deepened in crimson color as he continues to see her wrestle with control and surrender. Split into two, she would eventually choose the latter.

He flicked her again, aggressively this time, his mind filling with grand ambitions of what he will do to his canvases tonight. He will forever remember this day with the colors he will splatter on the stretched fabric: red jasper, shell white, lapis lazuli. Already, he can smell the oil paints combined with her scent. He'll probably never think of his paints the same way again without being reminded of the girl he had seduced and bind to his whole being.

"Oh!"

As he held her securely on the waist with his free hand, and continued to destroy her control with another, Haruka shook in his palm. He felt her spasm, as more of her honey gushed out, sweet and even more arousing. Her earthy scent filled the room, and he felt a perverse satisfaction that he was responsible for giving her an orgasm she will never forget in a long time. It is selfish of him. Marking her this way as his.

_So this is how it feels to touch liquid starlight. _Looking down at his glistening fingers, Natsuki Shinomiya is blinded by her luminous passion.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**A/N: A painter friend of mine once said that when he is seized with an overwhelming urge to paint, it's hard to concentrate. And he needed to shut himself in his room to visualize what he wanted. Sometimes, the twitch in his fingers are too much and he needed to quickly get to his canvas. **

**I am not painter, but I kind of understand the way he feels sometimes when I get hit with sudden burst of ideas that I need to write them down somewhere (a pad, a notebook or my phone) so that I won't forget. It hit me one time in the middle of a meeting, and I could not sit still. All I did was doodle the while day, fighting the urge to write a lemon on my minutes of meeting, while my colleagues hovers behind me. Tsk, tsk. I wanted to cry afterwards because I could not recall the words running through my head. (sad)**

**By the way, I intend to concentrate writing two chapters for Underage Love. It took me awhile to assemble my thoughts. And I am still in the middle of eliminating some scenarios in my head, and prioritize which ones I wanted to write. Wish me luck so that I can finish it soon.**

**For those who are not familiar with my other work, Cecil's Muse, Please visit this fic and read my notes on the latest chapters. It's a sincere and heartfelt explanation about why I update so slowly. **

**Thank you for your support as always. And I appreciate your patience with keeping up on my irregular schedule og updates.**

**Reviews=love**


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